The Keeper of Secrets Read Free

helped myself to a slice of very fine ham, I summoned Corby, the butler, to my side. ‘Tell me, was there any disturbance in the night? I thought I heard something – a shout, a scream – I know not…’
    I would swear I saw panic in his eyes, but he said bracingly, ‘Sir, next you will be telling me you peered out of the window and saw a headless rider galloping into the courtyard! Why,’ he continued, his eyes a-twinkle, ‘I recall a footman saw the hooded figure of a friar being hauled down the main staircase only a month or so ago. Regrettably he had made such inroads into his lordship’s port that I had to dismiss him on the spot.’
    Certainly Corby would not venture to accuse me of having been top-heavy, but I took his drift.
    ‘Now, sir,’ he continued, ‘I understand from Mr Davies – his lordship’s steward, sir – that the carter has at last reached the vicarage. He himself will supervise the unloading of your effects, but requests the pleasure of your early presence. Naturally he would not want to install furniture in the wrong rooms, sir.’
    ‘Naturally. Will you have my gig brought round in – say – half an hour? And have Sutton apprised of my move?’
    As he bowed himself away, another pang struck me. All my life I had had but to raise a finger and my orders were obeyed. Now I would have to do simple errands like that for myself.
    * * *
    Scarce was the last stick of furniture in place, and Jem, my groom, inspecting the stabling, than there was a knock on the back door. Hurrying through the still unfamiliar territory, I found before me a comely woman in her forties. Although very plainly and respectably dressed, she was as elegant in her way as Lady Elham. She carried a basket covered with a white cloth, as if an alfresco repast were planned.
    Curtsying slightly in response to my bow, she said, ‘Mrs Beckles, at your service, Parson Campion. I have the honour to be housekeeper up at the Priory. I hope these few offerings will make life more tolerable for you until you have your own staff.’
    ‘Why, thank you, Mrs Beckles. That is more than kind of Lady Elham—’ I stopped. ‘I do beg your pardon, Mrs Beckles. These come from you, not her ladyship, do they not?’
    She smiled dismissively. ‘A man needs his comforts, sir. Shall I dispose of them in your kitchen for you?’
    ‘I hardly like—’ Nonetheless, I stood aside.
    ‘When did any man know his way about a kitchen, sir? Let alone a gentleman.’
    Her honest face made me trust her. ‘Mrs Beckles, here in Moreton St Jude I am a gentleman no more.’
    She lifted her chin. ‘With respect, sir, being a gentleman has less to do with birth than behaviour – if you’ll pardon me for saying so,’ she added quickly. But encouraged by my smile, she continued, ‘Up at the Priory I see fine lords behaving like savages, and working men as charitable and gracious as if they had been born with a whole canteen of silver spoons.’
    I hung my head, but lifted it to say, ‘Mrs Beckles, I thinkyou have just given a better sermon than I shall ever hope to do.’
    ‘Nay, sir, each to his or her trade. And mine is to tell you that one of the first things you must do is to install a new closed range for this kitchen.’
     
    Extending her attentions to the rest of the house, she hung curtains and stowed linen with the brisk efficiency of Sutton, but more conversation, though none as controversial as her comments about gentility. I tried to draw her out about my new neighbours, but she looked me straight in the eye. ‘That would be gossip and hearsay, Parson Campion. You must make your own judgements. You’ll make some mistakes – every young man does that – but I doubt that you’ll make many. There now, at least you’ll have a shirt to your back in the morning,’ she said, closing the last drawer. ‘I’ll arrange for old Dame Phipps to come and wash for you, shall I? Every two weeks? Or every month?’
    I shook my head. ‘Mrs Beckles,